Mother of Midnight

Chapter 125 – Wants

Amid bustling crowds, bright awnings covered market stalls, cries of vendors echoed through the lively streets, drawing attention from passing travelers and locals alike. The streets of Duskvale were now bustling with mid-morning energy, vendors shouting over each other to draw attention to their stalls while locals and travelers milled about. The city felt alive in a way Vivienne found both charming and mildly chaotic. Her black eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the lively market square and the sunlight glinting off the colorful awnings.

Once they reached the inn, Rava stretched her arms above her head and glanced toward the stable where their wagon was parked. “I’ll stick around here,” she said. “Might as well check on the supplies and make sure nothing’s been tampered with. I might keep an eye on Elira and Ivor too.”

Vivienne, however, wasn’t quite ready to settle. “I think I’ll take another look around the city,” she said. “It’s got a certain charm I didn’t notice as much at night.”

To her surprise, Kivvy immediately perked up. The goblin adjusted her belt and grinned. “I’m coming with you! I never got to see much of cities. Or like much else, ‘cept the workshop I lived in.”

Vivienne raised a brow at Kivvy’s enthusiasm but didn’t object. Instead, her thoughts turned to Renzia, who was still waiting quietly in the wagon, untouched by the bustling world around her. “I’d like to bring Renzia along,” she added, glancing at Rava.

Rava smirked faintly. “I think she would like that.”

Vivienne nodded, her lips curving into a small smile as she headed toward the stable where their wagon was parked. The scent of hay and the faint tang of metal greeted her as she approached, the wagon sitting exactly where they’d left it. Inside, Renzia sat motionless, her mannequin-like form an uncanny stillness amid the noise of the bustling inn yard.

“Renzia,” Vivienne called gently, her voice cutting through the sounds of life around them. The mannequin’s head tilted slightly, her slate already in hand as she scribbled a response.

Yes?

Vivienne stepped closer, her tail swaying behind her. “Kivvy and I are heading out to see the city. Thought you might like to join us.”

Renzia hesitated for a moment, her chalk gliding over the slate. Yes mistress.

Vivienne leaned against the wagon, her tail swaying thoughtfully. “You don’t have to call me ‘mistress,’ you know,” she said, her voice light but carrying a hint of teasing. “Just Vivienne will do.”

Renzia tilted her head, her slate moving in measured strokes. Yes mistress.

Vivienne’s lips quirked into a grin, though she didn’t press further. “Alright then. Come on, let’s get moving. You’ve been cooped up long enough.”

The mannequin rose without hesitation, her movements precise and deliberate, as always. Vivienne stepped back to give her space, letting Kivvy lead the way out onto the bustling streets. Renzia’s expressionless gaze lingered on Vivienne for a moment before following silently, her presence both eerie and quietly reassuring.

The trio moved through the busy streets, the hum of city life rising around them. Merchants called out from their stalls, peddling everything from shimmering fabrics to fresh-baked goods. Vibrant colors adorned the stands, while the mingling scents of roasted meats and fragrant spices filled the air.

Despite the liveliness of the market, there was a noticeable reaction wherever they went. People stopped mid-conversation, eyes flicking nervously toward Vivienne. Whispers trailed in their wake, and more than a few individuals subtly edged out of their path. Vivienne’s five black eyes and the gleaming obsidian scales along her limbs made her an intimidating sight, but the amused smirk on her face suggested she didn’t mind the attention.

“You’d think they’ve never seen a lady out for a walk before,” Vivienne mused, her voice low enough for only Kivvy and Renzia to hear.

“They’re just scared of you,” Kivvy said with a shrug, clearly unconcerned. “Big scary tail, lots of eyes, and those claws. You’re like a nightmare on legs.” She grinned as if it was a compliment.

Vivienne laughed, her tail flicking behind her playfully. “Fair point.”

They wandered for a while, occasionally stopping to browse the wares. Vivienne bought a skewer of roasted meat for Kivvy, who devoured it with gusto. Meanwhile, Renzia moved in perfect silence, her gaze fixed straight ahead unless Vivienne stopped, at which point she would halt with precision.

It wasn’t until they were passing a corner stall draped with bolts of fabric that Renzia finally did something unexpected. She paused, staring at the vibrant cloth with an intensity that was rare for her.

Vivienne noticed immediately and arched a brow. “Something catch your eye?”

Renzia hesitated for a moment before scribbling on her slate. Tailor?

Vivienne blinked in surprise, then a wide smile broke across her face. “You want to visit a tailor?” she asked, delight clear in her voice.

Yes. The mannequin’s response was quick, the letters neatly written.

“Well, that’s new. Come on, let’s find one!” Vivienne said cheerfully, clearly pleased that Renzia had asked for something. Even Kivvy seemed a bit taken aback, though she recovered quickly, grinning as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

“Didn’t think she’d ever ask for anything,” Kivvy muttered under her breath.

After a few minutes of wandering through the bustling market streets, they came across a small shop tucked between a bakery and a jeweler. Its window displayed elegantly crafted garments, from simple tunics to finely embroidered cloaks. The scent of fresh linen and dyes wafted through the open doorway.

“This looks promising,” Vivienne said, holding the door open for Kivvy and Renzia to step inside.

The interior of the shop was cozy, bolts of fabric stacked neatly along the walls, and a large table in the center was strewn with half-finished garments and sewing tools. Behind the table, a middle-aged woman with silver-threaded hair glanced up from her work. Her welcoming smile faltered the moment her eyes met Vivienne’s.

Fear flickered in her expression, her gaze flitting nervously across Vivienne’s features—the swirling black eyes, spiraling horns, and thick tail swaying gently behind her. She gripped the edge of the table as though steadying herself, her fingers curling tightly around the fabric she had been stitching.

Vivienne’s voice was soft, almost disarming. “Good day. My friend here”—she gestured toward Renzia, whose stillness made her presence all the more unsettling—“was curious about your store.”

The tailor’s eyes flicked nervously between Vivienne and Renzia, her grip tightening on the fabric in her hands. She forced a stiff nod, casting a sidelong glance at Kivvy, who offered a toothy grin as though daring her to react further. The silence hung thick in the air until the woman cleared her throat and managed, “Of course… What, uh… what exactly are you looking for?”

Renzia, as precise as ever, scribbled quickly on her slate and turned it toward the tailor. I wish to see your work.

The woman hesitated, clearly caught off guard by the strange request. She blinked at the message, then at Renzia, as though trying to decide whether the mannequin before her could even wear clothes. Finally, with a shaky breath, she offered a weak smile. “I… have some samples over here.”

Vivienne’s grin widened, a flash of delight crossing her face, but said nothing, observing the mannequin carefully.

Reluctantly, the tailor stepped around the table, guiding them toward the back of the shop where finished garments hung in neat rows. As she gestured to the display, she kept casting wary glances at Vivienne, as though expecting something terrible to happen at any moment.

Renzia examined the garments in silence, her head tilting slightly as though calculating something only she could understand. After a brief moment, she wrote again on her slate: These are beautiful. How long do they take to make?

The tailor blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment. Her fingers twitched as if unsure whether to hold onto the fabric or fidget with something else. “Uh… well, it depends. Something simple can take a few days, but finer pieces… weeks, even months,” she said hesitantly, though a faint hint of pride slipped into her voice as she spoke.

Renzia considered this for a moment before carefully wiping the slate clean and writing another question. What is your finest work?

The woman hesitated before gesturing toward a section of the shop where elaborate gowns and intricately tailored coats hung, their fabric shimmering faintly in the soft light filtering through the windows. “Over there,” she said, her voice steadier now, as if talking about her craft provided a momentary reprieve from her fear. “These are my custom commissions—only those willing to pay for real craftsmanship bother with pieces like these.”

Renzia moved closer, studying the garments with the same unnerving stillness that had followed her since they arrived. Her gaze flicked over each piece, her head tilting slightly every now and then. Vivienne, watching quietly from behind, caught the growing ease in the tailor’s posture as she answered Renzia’s increasingly specific questions.

“She’s quite thorough, isn’t she?” Vivienne said, her tone light with amusement as her tail flicked lazily behind her.

The tailor managed a small, uncertain smile. “Yes, she is… Most people don’t ask so much about how things are made. It’s… refreshing.” Her eyes softened, and the tension in her shoulders seemed to ease further as she continued describing the intricacies of various fabrics, stitching techniques, and the challenges of certain designs.

Kivvy, meanwhile, wandered around the shop with wide eyes, occasionally reaching out to touch a particularly colorful fabric until Vivienne shot her a warning glance. She pulled her hand back, grinning sheepishly.

Renzia’s slate moved again: Thank you for sharing your knowledge. It is helpful.

The tailor blinked, then smiled—a real, warm smile this time. “You’re… welcome. If you ever need anything made, you’re welcome to come back.”

Vivienne straightened from where she’d been leaning, clearly pleased with how things had gone. “Well, it looks like we’ve gotten all we need here. Thank you for your time.”

The tailor nodded, still looking a little wary but much calmer than when they’d first arrived. “Safe travels.”

They stepped outside into the bustling street, the noise and energy of the city washing over them once more. Kivvy immediately stretched her arms overhead, yawning loudly. “Didn’t think we’d get a whole lecture on sewing, but hey, not bad.”

Vivienne chuckled, glancing at Renzia. “I’m glad you asked to come here. Maybe next time you’ll actually have something made for yourself.”

Renzia wrote on her slate, I will consider it.

With that, they began making their way back toward the inn, the crowd parting slightly as they passed—most people giving Vivienne a wide berth, though Kivvy’s carefree energy seemed to put a few onlookers more at ease. Renzia moved silently at Vivienne’s side, her blank expression unreadable as always, though Vivienne couldn’t help but feel satisfied at having seen this small glimpse of curiosity from her companion.

By the time they reached the inn, the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the cobbled streets. Vivienne pushed open the door, the warm smell of food and the low murmur of conversation welcoming them back inside. Rava looked up from where she sat near the hearth, a questioning glance flicking toward them.

“How’d it go?” Rava asked as they approached.

Vivienne’s grin widened. “Renzia’s a big fan of fine tailoring, apparently.”

Kivvy snickered as she flopped into a chair. “Yeah, who knew?”

Rava’s brow lifted slightly, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she nodded toward the table. “Sit. You look like you could use something warm.”

Vivienne took a seat, her tail curling around the chair’s leg. “Don’t mind if I do.”

The next morning, the chill of dawn clung to the air as light crept over the treetops. Duskvale was beginning to stir, the early risers already moving about, tending to their routines. Near the inn, Rava worked steadily, tightening straps and checking the wagon’s hitch with careful precision.

Vivienne, currently in her wolf form, stood patiently beside her, sleek black fur gleaming faintly in the morning light. The large harness encircled her shoulders and chest, and Rava was ensuring everything was secure before they set out. Vivienne’s tail swayed idly, her sharp eyes scanning the quiet street ahead.

“Almost done,” Rava muttered as she tugged the final strap into place and gave it a firm tug to test its strength. She stepped back, hands on her hips, and gave Vivienne a nod. “Comfortable?”

Vivienne huffed softly, a faint curl of mist forming from her breath in the cold air. Her ears flicked forward in acknowledgment.

As Rava moved toward the back of the wagon to check the supplies, the crunch of approaching footsteps drew their attention. Elira and Ivor emerged from a side street, bundled tightly in thick cloaks, the early morning chill making their breath visible in the crisp air. Ivor adjusted the strap of his pack, his eyes briefly scanning the wagon before landing on Vivienne.

“Morning,” Elira greeted, offering a polite smile as she stepped closer. Her gaze flicked briefly to Vivienne in her wolf form, lingering just a moment before returning to Rava. She didn’t comment, already familiar enough with Vivienne’s shifting to take it in stride. “Ready to head out?”

“Just about,” Rava replied, patting the side of the wagon as she walked along its length, checking each strap and fastening. “Viv’s hitched up, and everything’s packed. We’ll be leaving shortly.”

Ivor cast a long glance at Vivienne, who stood calmly in front of the wagon, sleek black fur ruffling slightly in the breeze. His brow furrowed as he eyed the harness wrapped around her broad shoulders. “Why choose her to pull the wagon? Seems… unconventional.”

Rava gave a nonchalant shrug, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “She volunteered. Figured it’s easier than dealing with a quocha. No feeding or water breaks, and she keeps pace better than most beasts.” A faint smirk crept across her lips. “Besides, it’s not like she minds.”

Vivienne huffed quietly, a puff of steam curling from her snout in the cold air. Her tail gave a single, lazy flick, as if to say Exactly.

Elira chuckled softly at that, while Kivvy emerged from the inn behind them, still chewing on a strip of dried meat. “Can’t argue with that,” Kivvy said, flashing her usual mischievous grin. She climbed into the back of the wagon, plopping down cross-legged with an eager energy that hadn’t faded since the previous day.

Renzia appeared moments later, stepping out of the inn’s shadow in her unnervingly quiet manner. Without a word, she climbed into the wagon and settled into a corner, slate in hand. Her blank gaze turned toward the road ahead, giving no indication of her thoughts.

Ivor exchanged a glance with Elira, who gave a brief nod. They both clambered into the wagon, stowing their packs neatly at their feet. With everyone in place, Rava moved to the front and perched herself on the driver’s seat, ready to direct Vivienne when needed.

She gave the straps one final check, then turned her golden eyes toward the distant horizon. “Alright, time to go.”

Vivienne tensed slightly, claws digging into the ground as she braced herself. At Rava’s word, she surged forward, pulling the wagon with ease. The creak of wooden wheels and the steady rhythm of her paws against the cobblestone filled the air as they began to move.

The early morning light bathed the quiet streets of Duskvale, where a few early risers paused to watch the odd procession depart. Whispers spread among the villagers, their eyes wide with curiosity—or perhaps unease—as the massive black wolf led the wagon out of town, trailed by its strange group of passengers.

Before long, they reached the outskirts, where the forest stretched out ahead, mist clinging to the underbrush in wisps. As the last buildings of Duskvale faded behind them, Rava leaned back slightly, her expression calm but alert.

“Next stop, the ruins near Serkoth,” she murmured, her voice carrying just enough for those nearby to hear.